


Don't Drink the Water

by misbegotten



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Phil Is a Ninja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Phil needs a hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Drink the Water

**Author's Note:**

> For the [impromptu hugs comment fanwork fest](http://such-heights.dreamwidth.org/379550.html). ::hugs::

Phil Coulson is a highly capable, fully-trained field agent. He is just as adept -- if not more -- at hand-to-hand combat, at weapon-to-hand combat, at office-supply-equipment-to-hand combat (seriously, he could take out your windpipe with a pen cap), as his colleagues. He rides herd on the Avengers with patience and good humor, with only occasional glimpses of irritation at their more destructive shenanigans.

He also makes an excellent cup of coffee, which is neither here nor there, but it's another one of the reasons that Clint loves him. That, and he's a tiger in bed.

Right now, Phil looks wretched, ill, and in desperate need of a hug. It's too bad that he's covered in river water which, though it's mostly dried, has left his usually immaculate suit a splotchy, spongy mess.

"Strip," Clint orders, throwing him a towel. The river that Iron Man fished Phil out of wasn't _that_ polluted, but better safe than sorry. "In to the shower."

Phil wipes his face and holds back a sneeze. Miserably. If Clint didn't know better, he'd say that Phil's dunking has undone his natural immunity to all known germs. Hopefully his immunity to sarcasm and Stark's attempts to make him laugh are still in place, or it could mean the end of the Avengers Initiative altogether.

"You're not stripping."

Phil sighs longsufferingly and begins peeling off his suit. "You could help, you know," he says. A little plaintively. Clint just wants to bundle him up and take care of him. But this is _Phil_ , and one does not coddle the Agent in Charge. Except maybe in bed, when snuggling is not out of the question.

Phil's trousers are sticking to his legs, and he plucks at them irritably to get them loose. Clint takes pity on him and starts on the buttons of Phil's dress shirt -- though if he gets river crud from it, Phil will never hear the end of it -- but Phil catches his hand. "You know how they say you see your life flash before your eyes?"

Clint's been there, done that, would prefer not to do it again. "Yeah," he says roughly, trying not to think about how long Phil was underwater.

"I didn't see anything," Phil says quietly. "Except you."

Oh. _Oh_. Phil is many, many things, but he's not demonstrative. Light touches, small smiles -- these are Phil's calling cards. Not declarations.

Phil's arms slide around Clint tentatively, as if he's not sure Clint will push him off, and Clint thinks with exasperation _Phil_ and _river crud_ in the same instant, but of course _Phil_ wins out and Clint draws him into a tight embrace.

"Love you," Clint says.

Phil's head is buried in Clint's neck as he says something that sounds vaguely like, "Love you too, you conceited, trouble-making, pain in my ass."

Yeah, it's definitely true love.


End file.
